


What's going to be left of the world if you're not in it?

by Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Heavy Angst, Incest, M/M, Mutual Suicide, Sad Ending, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 09:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag/pseuds/Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag
Summary: He didn't mean to say it, but once it was out, there was no taking it back. And from that point forward, Sam felt completely inadequate. He would never be good enough for him. Just one constant disappointment. After a particularly bad fight, Sam feels like it would be better for the both of them if he just disappeared. No more let downs, no more disappointment. Better for everyone, right?Prompt from druzycherryquartz: Wincest but they commit dual suicide[Hey so in case this isn't obvious, this is a very sad fic. Enter at your own risk!]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [druzycherryquartz](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=druzycherryquartz).



> TW's: Suicide, Self harm/cutting, death by gun shot, blood, blades

It wasn't supposed to happen. It  _ shouldn't _ of happened, but it did, and there was no turning back at this point. Dean hadn't even looked at him since Wednesday, and the silence was absolutely tearing Sam up inside. He apologized, profusely, but Dean didn't want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear anything after, “I love you Dean, and I’ve been in love with you for years.” 

Dean had been gone for a few hours now. Sam assumed a bar, that was his usual hang out. But that meant Dean had the car and left him stranded at a shitty no name motel for a while. He tried to call Cas, hoping maybe the angel could offer him some advice. But he wasn’t answering his cell phone, or any of Sam’s prayers. Besides, there was a good chance that if Dean was pissed at him, Cas was too. Cas always seemed to like Dean more.

Sam pushed his hair out of his face as the tears came down. He was broken, he knew it. Knew it long before the premonitions, the demon blood and the possessions. He knew he was broken when he turned 15 and started noticing Dean in a way he hadn’t before. In a way he sometimes did with the girls Dean would bring over when Dad was out on a hunt. He had always admired and looked up to Dean for his strength and bravery, but one day, like a switch, he started noticing other things. Like how perfectly spaced his freckles were across the bridge of his nose. How plump his lips were after he'd spent 15 minutes biting them in concentration. How bright his eyes sparkled whenever Sam did something that made him proud. At first he thought it was just brotherly admiration, until other parts of his body began to react.    


Sam had been dealing with his crush on Dean for almost 10 years now. It had been driving him insane keeping it locked inside and after nearly losing him three times since they reconnected, he couldn't wait anymore. It just sorta spilled out, but once it was out, there was no going back. Dean had laughed at first, not taking Sam seriously, because why would he? They were  _ brothers _ . But when he saw the way Sam's eyes dropped in rejection he knew better. And he was fucking  _ pissed _ .    
__   
_ "What, are you kidding me?" He was nearly shouting, "Sam! What the hell is wrong with you?!"  _ __   
__   
_ Sam may have had the height advantage, but right now, with Dean shouting in his face, he felt smaller than a toddler.  _ __   
__   
_ "I-" _ __   
__   
_ "You know what, no. Don't even bother explaining it Sam! I'm sure I don't want to hear it. God damn it, it's always something with you isn't it? Will you ever be normal!?"  _ __   
  


That was the first night Dean stormed out, probably to get drunk enough to forget his incestous little brother. And when he finally came home, it was worse. Dean barely got two feet in the door before he took a swing at Sam, giving his brother an instant black eye before collapsing in drunkenness. Sam didn't even get mad as he tucked Dean into bed before scouring the fridge for something to ice his eye. He knew he had it coming. He knew he deserved worse.    
  
Sam kept his distance after that. Dean only spoke to him when it pertained to a case and didn't bother apologizing for the black eye. Over the next two weeks, Sam had become a shell of his former self. He couldn't eat, he could barely sleep. All he did was drink and cry whenever Dean wasn't around. Tonight had to have been the worst. He couldn't feel  _ anything _ . His entire body had gone numb from the mental and physical stresses he had put it through. It was beyond the point of giving up, and Sam would finish this tonight.    
  
He took the switchblade he always kept on him and a bottle of bourbon and left the motel room for the woods. He debated just doing it in the bathtub but he didn't want Dean to be the one to find him. He was depressed, not vindictive. He'd rather some no name cop be the one to find him and call it in.     
  
Sam walked for miles, finally settling on an area with a small pond that was nearly invisible behind the trees. This would have to do. He found a small patch of dirt just by the water's edge and sat there. He must of sat there an hour, just thinking, drinking. He would miss Dean more than anything, but he was convinced Dean wouldn't miss him. He’d killed any hope of that with his earlier admittance.  He peeled the jacket from his shoulders and let it fall in the dirt. His arms were already exposed due to the short sleeved shirt he was wearing.    
  
He took an unsteady breath before placing stainless steel to flesh. The first cut was shallow, hesitant. It didn't hurt like he wanted and that just wouldn't do. Sam had been numb for  _ days _ . If he was going out, he was going out feeling  _ something _ . He altered the orientation of the blade and pulled down vertically, starting at the elbow and stopping in the middle of the first cut. This one stung, the depth of the cut severing and sending the nerve endings ablaze. The third was quick, almost illegible under the pool of blood that began to collect on the surface of his skin. He repeated the cut pattern on the other arm, the lightheadedness from booze and blood loss making his hands shake. The dark made it tough to see how much blood he'd actually lost, but he was sure it was getting up there. By the time he finished the last cut, he couldn't keep his eyes open. The blackness hit him faster than expected and his body finally gave from under him, his back hitting the dirt with a wet thud. Just moments before he let himself be succumbed to the omnipresent darkness, he could have sworn he heard a gentle flutter of wings, and a warm, familiar voice calling out his name.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had been blackout drunk for the better part of a week and it was all fucking Sam’s fault. Sam with his stupid fucking admission that filled Dean with so much fear and rage the only way he knew to cope was with violence and copious amounts of alcohol. It was sickening how much like his dad he had become. Dean hated John for the majority of his childhood, and watching himself morph into the toxic, abusive, manipulating bastard was a fate worse than death.

God he tried so hard not to be like John.  Dean did more to support his family than John ever did. Dean was better, kinder, more responsible. _He_ was the one who brought in cash so they could eat more than twice a week. _He_ was the one who raised Sam like he was his own because John was too busy on a revenge kick to take care of either of them. He had been better, but then Sam had to go and ruin it. Sam had to go and say something so fucking stupid and mess everything up. Why couldn't he have just left things as they were!? They were happy! They were together again after _years_ of being apart and kicking monster ass side by side, the way it should be. Monster fighting _brothers_ , and nothing more.

But what Dean didn't say about Sam’s admittance was how deeply it shook him. It made him feel more raw and exposed than a nerve. His only option was to bury his feelings down in bottles of whiskey and bar fights with strangers because if he looked at Sam for another _minute_ he’d throw away years of repressed emotions. Dean had been in love with him too. Yeah, sue him. It had nothing to do with the fact that they were blood, but it had everything to do with the fact he was _Sam_. Dean’s Sam. The Sam who stayed by his side through almost everything, the only one who could bring him out of his darkest places and show him the light. No one had ever made Dean feel as good as Sam did. But how the hell do you say that to someone? Let alone someone you’re related to. It was better this way, Dean decided, in the long run. It would be the only way they would be able to work together in the future. Dean would break Sam’s heart now and Sam would pout for a while but then he’d move on. Find someone much better than Dean to spend his life with.

 “Dean.”

Dean raised his head from his sixth, seventh? drink at the familiar gravelly voice, but didn't turn around. He was sure the ‘holier than thou’ angel would give him a scowl at how much alcohol he’d consumed this past week and he wasn’t really in the mood to disappoint one more person.

“What do you need Cas?” He asked instead, swirling around the ice cubes in his double shot with a drink straw he stole from the stash on the counter.

Cas’s firm hand on his shoulder spun him in the rotating bar stool. Dean had expected to be met with a look of disapproval. He expected to be meet with a look of disdain. What he _didn't_ expect was to be met with a look of pure, unbridled distress.

“Cas? Cas, what’s wrong?” He asked, sobering up almost instantly as his spiked heart rate pumped pure adrenaline through his veins. The angel only said one word, but that word mixed with the panic clearly etched on the otherwise stoic angels face had Dean moving.

“Take me to him.”

* * *

The two landed on a small dirt path just south of a still pond in the middle of a clearing. Trees surrounded them completely and Dean couldn’t make heads or tails of their location. But that was irrelevant right now.  All that mattered was finding Sammy.

“Dean.”

Dean turned around to see Cas pointing somewhere just at the edge of the water, where he could barely make out a dark silhouette of a body.

“Shit.”

Dean sprinted across the wet earth towards the figure, falling into the mud just to the left of Sam. He knew it was going to be bad, Cas’ face had tipped that off, but he didn’t think it would be this.

“Hey, hey hey Sammy? No, damn it, what did you do?” He asked as he took in the pale and lifeless form sunk in the dirt. Sam’s arms were slashed and the blood was seeping out of the jagged wounds at a sluggish rate. That was a _very_ bad sign.

Dean had his shirt off and tied around one of Sam’s arms quickly, shouting at Cas for his tie to truncate the other. Fear, agony, and pure instinct were taking over, flooding and sulking his senses enough to ignore just how cold Sam’s flesh felt under his own. Or how the dusty pink of Sam’s usually full lips had turned to a faint blue. He felt Cas’s hand on his shoulder and a gentle call of his name but Dean shrugged him off, his mind in overdrive to stop the bleeding enough to get Sam to a hospital.

“Cas I need you to help me lift him. I can’t carry him on my own,” Dean ordered, slipping his arms under Sam’s back and into the mud. But Cas didn’t move, though the grip on his shoulder grew harder.

“Dean...” And Dean did not like the resignation in his tone.

“Cas, come on! We don’t have a lot of time!”

The hand on his shoulder moved down to his wrist, gently pulling it out of the mud before squeezing it gently.

“Dean. I’m so sorry.”

“No!” Dean yanked his hand away from Cas like it had burned him, focusing on Sam and ignoring the angel completely. They were wasting time! He needed to get Sam to a hospital now.

“Dean,” Cas said again, but this time the familiar voice sounded broken, harsh with sadness and loss. “Dean stop. We’re too late.”

All the blood and color drained from Dean’s face as he finally took in his brothers alabaster, lifeless form. His hands shook as he searched for a pulse, tears spilling down his face as he touched icy skin.

“Sammy, please,” he begged, barely holding it together as realization sunk in around him. Sammy was gone. His Sammy, his life, the one person making this shit show of a fucking life worth living for, gone. And it was his fucking fault.

“Cas? I need you to take us home now.”

“Dean-" Dean could hear the pity in the angels voice. Pity and fear of what was coming next. Cas knew what he was thinking. Always fucking knew what Dean was up to before he even finished the thought. But Dean couldn’t go on without Sammy. He just couldn’t. The Winchesters were always dangerously codependent of each other.  

“No- I- I need to take my brother home now Cas.”

* * *

Not a word was spoken once they crossed the threshold to the bunker. Dean hadn’t let go of Sam’s body since he found him by the lake. He carried him back to Dean’s room, the room they shared when one or both of them had a nightmare. The nightmares had started up again, they always did around anniversaries of trauma. It made Dean feel like a soldier suffering from PTSD. But Sam always helped him through the nightmares. Not anymore. Dean didn’t even want to think about what the nightmares would be like now, without his sole support system and confidant. Dean wouldn’t last a day, that much was certain.

He had wished Cas wasn’t here for this, but he knew someone had to take care of their bodies when it was all over, better an angel than a human. Cas could always compartmentalize better than either of them. Probably had something to do with the whole child of God thing. But Dean was stalling. This needed to happen. There was no bringing Sammy back, not this time. They had exhausted all other resources, Cas was on borrowed mojo, and no being would help them now. Billie was probably cackling from her fucking throne.

“See you soon Bitch,” he said to the air, digging through his duffel for his handgun. It wasn’t the way he imagined going out, but it would be quick, and efficient. He just needed to be with Sammy again. That was all that mattered. That was all that ever mattered.

He had taken a spot next to Sam on his bed, the agony finally really settling in deep in his chest. This was real. He wasn’t dreaming. Sam was gone. It had to be this way, it just had to. He linked their fingers together, lifting Sam’s cool flesh to his lips and kissing it hard. The muzzle of the gun was cold against his temple, colder than the skin in his hand. He had to do it now. The pain was too much to bare.

“I’ll see you on the other side brother,” He promised, pulling the trigger back and succumbing to the rapidly approaching darkness.


End file.
